You'll Never Know
by HowDoYouTakeYourTea
Summary: This will be a collection of about 500 word pieces that will alternate between Andy and Miranda. These are Mirandy pieces.
1. Andy's POV

Some people would say that being Miranda Priestly's lover is asking for heartbreak. Yes, my heart gets broken many a times. Cancelled dinners, terrible moods, arguments; they all hurt. But, what people don't account for are all the times I smile, laugh, and feel completely cherished. Those good times outweigh all the bad, ten fold. No one gets to see the part of Miranda that she brings home and crawls into our bed with. No one gets to see the part of Miranda that cries because she is upset or sad. No one gets to see the part of Miranda that smiles and laughs with sheer joy. No one, except me. I get to hold her in my arms and whisper comforting words to her when she is crying because the press has said something awful about her or about our relationship. I'm the one who gets to sit on the couch, in her office, and sneak kisses while she's working on_ the book_. I'm the one who snuggles up on the couch with her and watches movies with the twins. I'm the one who gets to meet her at the door and say 'Hey babe. How was your day?' People don't understand that Miranda Priestly isn't the Ice Queen, Head Bitch, or Cold-Hearted Whatever-They-Say. She cries, she laughs, she smiles, she gets angry, she loves, she likes. She does all the things a 'normal' human being would do. She just happens to show very little of that to the press. Of course, why would a magazine want to publish 'Miranda Priestly; A Park Date Full of Laughter' when they could publish something like 'Miranda Priestly; Big Bad Wolf Huffs and Puffs and Blows Designers Down Again'? The press can publish what they'd like and people can form their own opinions about her, about us, but when she's laying in our bed, smiling at me or kissing my lips, I know that I would never want to share the part of Miranda that is just for me. I would never want to share the part of Miranda that is reserved for our bedroom, our office's, our kitchen, our living room. Miranda Priestly, Editor-in-Chief is shared with the world of fashion. But Miranda? Just Miranda? She's a whole other person that you will never have the pleasure to know.


	2. Miranda's POV

I never thought I would find somebody who actually wanted to take me to bed to simply lay with me. The thought never crossed my mind when looking for a husband or companion to dangle around in front of the press. I never had thoughts of making passionate love, or cuddling in front of the fireplace, or waking up late on a Sunday morning and having breakfast with my lover. I never had any of these thoughts until she came into my life. I never had any of those thoughts until she made it possible for me to see that those thoughts could be turned into actions. I never had those thoughts, until she showed me that having breakfast with a lover, that cuddling in front of the fireplace, that making passionate love, was just another way of saying 'I love you.' Now, all I can think about is cuddling, making love, eating dinner together, and laying in front of the fireplace with her. She has taught me that loving someone and letting someone love me in return can mean the world. She, is my world. She is the reason I get out of bed in the morning and make us breakfast. She is the reason I put the book away at 10pm instead of 2 in the morning. She is the reason I wake up with a smile on my face. She is the reason my assistants, no doubt, behind my back, question whether I am on a sedative or not. She brings out the best in me. All of the parts of me I never thought mattered, she has them, and she loves them, and in return, I am growing to love them too. She has sat through my rants and she's sat through my moments of weakness, and yet, she hasn't run away. I know that I can laugh in front of her. I know that I can smile at her and receive that million watt smile in return. I know that I could walk over to her, sit on her lap, bury my head in her neck, and sob. I know that she is going to protect me and love me just as I am. I never wake up dreading what the day will hold. Yes, some of my days are a pain and I sometimes wish I wasn't who I am. But, I have her to come home to. I have her to kiss me when I walk through the door. I have her to remind me that being Miranda Priestly can be a wonderful thing. I have her to remind me that the paparazzi are just random people with a camera and sometimes a column. I am a strong woman because of her. I am a woman who knows that, even if I were to break, with all the stress I go through, the pieces of me are re-attachable with her help. I know what love is. I know what love feels like. I know all of this because of her; because of my Andrea.


	3. Love Hurts, Miranda's POV

People wouldn't believe you if you told them that the great Miranda Priestly can actually shed a tear. But, it's true. Crying is not something that comes easily to me but when something so profound happens, I can't stop the tears from falling. I cry when one of my children has made me so incredibly proud of something they have worked so hard to achieve and I cry when I've hurt someone I love and when the person I love hurts me. There have been a few memorable times that I've cried, some good, and some bad. I'd rather remember all of the joyous tears that have fallen but the one time that will always stick with me was not a joyous occasion. Andrea was angry with me and I was angry with myself. I knew that I had been in the wrong to have not called her and cancelled the dinner we planned, but I got so tied up at work that it simply skipped my mind. That's no excuse but it's the truth. I admit that she had every right to be angry but the fight that accompanied that anger was not at all what I had expected. Of course we have our fights. What healthy couple doesn't? But, this fight turned out to be more than the yelling back and forth, maybe a door or two slamming, and then apologies. This fight seemed to be the end and I was terrified. I know that Andrea will say things that will hurt me because she is so angry with me and I know that she will say things she doesn't really mean. But, the one time she made me cry, I felt as if my whole world had caved in. I walked upstairs and slammed the door before I could shed a tear. I didn't want her to see what her words did to me. I'm supposed to be strong and composed not a sobbing mess. I had gone up to my bathroom, shed my clothing, and stepped into the shower. Once the water sprayed down, I let the tears flow freely. Once they came it was as if I would never stop crying. Racking sobs rolled through me and I had to remember how to breathe. At the time, I felt like I could have drowned in my own tears. Andrea had hurt me so deeply and what's worse is that she didn't even realize what she had said. I'm sure that, once she had time to process everything that had happened, she would understand just how much she had hurt me and how unnecessary her comments were. Finally, the tears had stopped and I was able to pick myself up off the shower floor. I remember getting out of the shower and thinking that, that may have been the last time I would ever see Andrea's things sprawled around the room as they were. I remember thinking that, that day could be the last day I would be able to call myself Miranda Priestly-Sachs. I had hoped that Andrea would walk through the door, wrap me in her arms, and tell me that everything was going to be okay. I needed her to do that. I needed her to tell me that she was sorry for what she had said and that she didn't mean a single word. Feeling hopeless, until Andrea returned and we could talk, I had walked over to our bed and laid down. I prayed that Andrea would return soon and forced myself to stay awake until she had arrived. Finally, I heard the front door open and close. My heart rate picked up and I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. When she opened our bedroom door, I saw the look of pure sadness on her face and knew that she knew exactly what she had said. She walked over to me and wrapped me in her arms, just like I needed. She was crying and in turn I started crying, again. She kept repeating 'I'm so sorry baby.' and 'I didn't mean it. You know I didn't mean it.' We held each other so tight, like if we let go, the other would be gone forever. We must have cried ourselves to sleep because we woke up, the next morning, in the exact position we were holding each other in. Neither of us could really talk about what had happened because the memory was so painful. But, I knew that if we could get through the night, together, then we would be okay. I don't know how many more days or years Andrea will spend with me. But, I do know that no matter how much we may make each other cry, we will always be there, at the end of the night, to wipe the tears away.


End file.
